


Merry Christmas

by mylucidskin (alyelle)



Category: Lost
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-20
Updated: 2005-12-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyelle/pseuds/mylucidskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the <a href="http://lost-hohoho.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://lost-hohoho.livejournal.com/"><b>lost_hohoho</b></a> Winter Fic Exchange. Request by <a href="http://addictive-lost.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://addictive-lost.livejournal.com/"></a><b>addictive_lost</b>: <i>Jack and Sawyer havent seen each other since they left the island 5 years prior. What happens when they get somehow get stuck in an elevator together on Christmas Eve?</i></p>
    </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://lost-hohoho.livejournal.com/profile)[**lost_hohoho**](http://lost-hohoho.livejournal.com/) Winter Fic Exchange. Request by [](http://addictive-lost.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://addictive-lost.livejournal.com/)**addictive_lost** : _Jack and Sawyer havent seen each other since they left the island 5 years prior. What happens when they get somehow get stuck in an elevator together on Christmas Eve?_

“Time to call it a day, Dr Shephard,” he murmured to himself as a soft ping announced the elevator’s arrival. He stepped inside, a perfunctorily courteous nod at the intern already in there, half asleep against the wall. Pushing the shut button, he noted the ground floor light was already lit. Nothing more for him to do. A quick ride to the bottom and -

A sudden jolt started him. “What was _that_?” he asked, more to himself than his fellow passenger.

“Guess she’s just tired like the rest of us, eh?”

“Yeah. Guess so.” Warily he watched the numbers descend, counting silently as they did. They’d just past twelve, now slowly ticking downwards… Ten... Nine... Eight...

Crunch.

Another bump, more violent than the first. Worried now, he gripped the hand rail, watching the numbers more intently. They shuddered past seven, the elevator’s descent becoming more like off-road driving every second, and finally halted shakily somewhere he guessed was halfway between the fifth and sixth floor.

“Oh, brilliant.”

“Hey, buddy, chill. Couple of minutes, she’ll get going again, betcha. Relax.”

“Yeah. Relax”, Jack muttered. The indolent drawl his companion spoke with was at once familiar and irritating. _Probably something off one of those damn reality TV shows_. Inclining his head against the cool wood-panelled wall he said to himself, “Don‘t panic. It‘ll start again, don‘t panic.”

“So. Whaddya do?” The question momentarily wrested his attention from the blinking number six above him.

“I’m a doctor. At least, that’s the theory. I haven’t operated in while.”

“No?”

“No. Been acting as Chief of Staff for the past year. Supervising, job counselling… Well, actually, all sorts of counselling now. Trauma victims, terminal cases, you know. The fun stuff.” A wry grin. “What about you?” He turned to face the other man, polite enough to at least look at the person he was forced into close proximity with.

Opening his mouth was as far as he got in replying, the chance gone as the exclamation came.

“ _Sawyer?_ What are you _doing_ here? And why are you in my elevator? And _why_ ” - an eyebrow raised suspiciously - “are you in surgical scrubs?”

“Hate to tell you doc, but this ain’t _your_ elevator.”

“You know what I mean.” He bridled, both nostalgic and irritated by the lazy sarcasm in Sawyer’s voice. “How- oh, never mind.” He sank to the floor, legs crossed, head resting against his palms. Glaring balefully up at Sawyer, he asked darkly, “Are you going to press the alert button, or will I?”

\+ + +

“And so I graduated. Some fancy Latin words they used. _Magna cum laude?_ Whatever.”

“ _Magna cum_ \- shit, Sawyer. That’s good. I mean…”

“Save it, I know what you mean. Old Sawyer, good for nothing, graduating medical school? And with honours! Who’d have thunk it?”

“No, it’s… Well, actually, yeah, that.”

“S’what I always liked about you Jack, at least you’re honest. For the most part. When is this goddamn thing moving again?”

“I don’t know. I give up, how many times can you push an alert button? Is there a phone? There’s always a phone in the movies.”

“In the movies I’d be stuck in here with a pretty girl. Probably a blonde one, who’d panic and faint, and I’d have to… Well. Guess this is no movie.” Bending down, he snapped open a briefcase Jack hadn’t noticed, rummaged around and withdrew a dark bottle. “To Christmas,” he toasted Jack, still busily looking at the alarm panel, before tipping his head back and beginning to empty the contents into his mouth.

“No, there’s no… what the hell?”

“Early present?” he suggested, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. Raising his eyebrow, he held out the bottle in Jack’s direction.

Sighing, Jack shook his head before taking it from him. _If I have to be stuck in here,_ he silently reasoned, _I may as well enjoy myself._

\+ + + 

“What time is it now?” Sawyer frowned, squinting at the liquid, or rather lack of, that swishing in front of his eyes.

“Five minutes since you last asked me. How many of those are you planning on emptying? How many do you _have_ for Christ’s sake?”

Sawyer wrinkled his nose. Looking up at Jack, who’d taken to repeated stress-relief on the down button, he shrugged. “Well, there was the one we drank… And now this one. And another,” he broke of while rummaging in his bag, “two. And a half,” he amended sheepishly.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re not getting totally wasted. If no one comes soon, you’re helping me find a way out of here.”

“Yeah, right doc. Cause I’m MacGyver. How about I just _push this damn alarm button again?_ ” He practically growled the last sentence, holding his thumb down on the small red square. Moments later an angry buzz announced its irritation that yes, in fact the alarm _has_ been pressed once, and no, your pressing it again won’t change matters any, thanks very much. Sayer just glared. Jack, on the other hand, seized the lapse of attention and quietly took the bottles from Sawyer’s bag.

“Oh, that’s it. I just- HEY!”

“Hey what?”

“Hey they’re mine, is what. Give them back.”

A mischievous expression stole across Jack’s face for an instant. Uncapping one bottle, he winked before downing it. “Make me.”

\+ + + 

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? You drank the whole thing! _And_ a half. And you…” he looked too distressed to even say it.

“I, what?” Jack’s eyebrow raised.

“You _tickled_ me,” he huffed in disgruntled tones. “Tickling is hardly what I’d call a fair weapon to use on a man.”

Jack stifled a snort. “I did tell you to let go. And besides, like I said it’s not that bad. I’ve still got one.”

“You mean I’ve still got one.”

“Nope. It’s in my hand, so _I’ve_ still got one. But we can share.”

“… I always hated you, you know.”

\+ + +

“Eighty seven bottles…”

“Sawyer.”

“… of beeeeer on…”

“Saywer.”

“… the waaaaalllllllllllll…”

“SAWYER!”

He stopped singing, arranging a delicately wounded expression as he looked across at Jack. “What?”

“Shut up already? It’s bad enough you started at three hundred instead of the customary ninety-nine. And I’ve had a long day.” Jack’s head hung in between his palm, elbows propped on his knees, balefully glaring at him.

A prolonged sigh and a huff came from the opposite side of the elevator. “Fine then. Truth or dare?”

“What?”

“Truth or dare? I mean, we have to do _something_ to pass the time in here.”

A wary look crossed the doctor’s face. “Yeah. Ok, truth.”

Sawyer grinned. “D’you ever do Freckles?”

“Oh, fuck, you never change.”

\+ + +

“What time is it now?”

“I don’t know. You have the watch, use it.”

“… I can’t see it.”

Sawyer laughed. “You, doctor, have no head for spirits.”

“I,” began Jack pompously, attempting to stand, “have no head for… OW. Who put that there?”

“That, good sir, is the hand rail that’s been there the entire time we’ve been here. Possibly longer.”

“Well. What I was going to say is I have no head for spending an entire day at work, only to get stuck in an elevator with you for god knows how many hours and _why can’t you just bloody move already, damn you?_ ” He stamped his foot as petulantly as any three year old, directing the end of his tirade at the elevator. With an almighty shudder, it bounced once in response, then slowly but smoothly descended, both men staring open mouthed at the numbers counting them down to the ground floor.

“Nice one, doc.”

“Ah… anytime. Erm, be seeing you.” And dazedly, he shook his head, walking out the automatic doors into the chill night air. He reached the corner, the peal of bells ringing loudly in his ears.

Sawyer watched him go, listened to the twelfth chime and, responding to something deep within him, called at the last minute “Merry Christmas, Jack.”

He turned back, a smile playing on his face. “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
